


Flicker

by Elle_Nahiara



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, written for yamazine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Nahiara/pseuds/Elle_Nahiara
Summary: Among his teammates, Tadashi always felt like a tiny star lost in the night sky, a dot between planets.Or: Yamaguchi at the end of his second year.
Relationships: Yamaguchi Tadashi & Karasuno Volleyball Club
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Flicker

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Yamaguchi Shooting Star Zine and since I haven't published anything in here for a hot while I thought I might as well.
> 
> I love my boy and it was difficult to do him justice in so few words but we do what we have to

Among his teammates, Tadashi always felt like a tiny star lost in the night sky, a dot between planets. They shone so bright that even almost a year after they had graduated, the team still remembered their previous third-years fondly. How could they not?

Now in his second year, Tadashi was aware he would never match them, and he accepted it. He’d always been easy to forget, easier to miss.

Which was why, when Coach Ukai asked them to begin choosing their next captain, Tadashi didn’t think much of it. He just nodded and left the gym, accompanying Hitoka on her way to buy meat buns and waiting for the topic to come up as they clumsily completed the usual purchase together.

“I’ll be okay with anyone they chose,” he confessed, holding the door for her.

Hitoka stood still for a moment, examining Tadashi carefully. “They… could choose you, you know?”

She looked down, anxious, and then rushed towards the team. Tadashi immediately laughed it off, shaking his head as he followed. Hitoka didn’t tend to make such jokes, but it was funny nonetheless.

As Kageyama hungrily lunged towards the buns in Hitoka’s hands, Hinata surged forward to stop him from scaring her, and he caught Tadashi’s reaction. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

Tadashi looked at him, suddenly embarrassed as he explained the situation. He trusted his friends, of course, but that couldn’t eliminate the constant fear of being mocked. Especially as silence followed his explanation.

“You know…” Kageyama was the first to talk, after swallowing. “She has a point.”

Tadashi was sure he said something more after that, and so did the others, but all he remembered was passing Tsukki his portion of food and then excusing himself, a buzz in his ears.

He knew they weren’t joking.

It would have been a lot easier if they _had_ been joking. Tadashi had lived the first decade of his life growing used to being mocked and the rest struggling with being noticed. And though he held no grudge towards them, his teammates were part of his struggle. It was hard not to feel eclipsed by their talent and enthusiasm, their intelligence, anything. Meanwhile, Tadashi was just… there.

And _just there_ was how he was the next day at the gym, his thoughts still scrambled. _Just there_ , in body but not in mind, as evidenced by the ball that hit his face in the middle of practice.

“Hey, Yamaguchi! What’s up with that? Imitating Shouyou?” Nishinoya barged in, right after catching the ball that had bounced off.

“Yeah!” Tanaka joined him. “You’re all distracted! A pretty girl talk to you?”

Tadashi tried to explain that was not the case, but rather than forming a coherent sentence, he babbled, attracting the attention of the others, especially the first years.

“Yamaguchi-senpai is usually not that distracted, did something happen?”

“Probably has to do with last night, right? What did Coach say?”

Tadashi opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling like a ridiculous fish, before clumsily managing to explain he was thinking of who they’d choose as their next captain.

“Oooh, getting ambitious, then?” Tanaka asked, and Tadashi’s eyes went wide at the implications.

“Oh, no, no, I don’t- I- It’s not like-”

He looked at the confused first-years, regarding him with big eyes, reminding him why it couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ be. He couldn’t be in charge of them. Ever. He’d let them _down._ He’d ruin their _chances._

As he panicked, someone grabbed his shoulder. Turning around quickly, Tadashi saw Ennoshita, felt him dragging him out of the gym. Once away from others, there was a moment of silence, long and heavy. Then, Ennoshita spoke; “I know what you’re thinking of. Reasons why it should not be you. But have you ever thought of why we think you should?”

And that was all. With a quick nod and a look, Ennoshita walked back in, and then Tadashi followed. Finding his classmates easily having gone back to training, it wasn’t hard to hope the topic was done for, forever.

Peace lasted only until after practice was finished. As they cleaned the floors, Kinoshita slowly approached him, looking at him with worry.

“Are you alright?” he said, after a moment.

Tadashi pursed his lips, then shrugged. “It’s over, right?” It had passed quickly, so it certainly wasn’t important.

But Kinoshita stared more, before nodding and glancing away, as he raised his voice, “You know... last year I realized: just because it’s not dramatic, doesn’t mean it isn’t important.” He paused for a moment. “Us pinch servers may not play all the time, but we’re still there if they need us.”

Tadashi opened his mouth to reply, but he had no idea how to react. And before he figured it out, Kinoshita was gone.

Narita, however, had been listening. He commented, “You should listen to him. Pretty sure you helped him build the confidence to even step onto the court. You don’t go… unnoticed.”

With a small smile, he bowed his head and left. Tadashi was praying this whole bizarre situation had finished. The more people insisted he should consider the possibility, the more he remembered why he wasn’t a good fit. He just wasn’t. He was nervous, and untalented. He didn’t have the authority, or the knowledge.

He wasn’t _right._

But people kept pushing; they kept pushing, and it seemed to never end. Especially as Takeda approached, gently smiling.

Tadashi sighed softly and prepared to listen.

Understanding as always, Takeda nodded. “If you think about mirrors, they don’t show us what others see. You see yourself through the lenses of your own experience. But for us who see you from outside, it’s easy to see you’ve changed. And you’ve changed others around you.”

The teacher waited for his answer, but Tadashi left instead. He couldn’t deal with this anymore. He couldn’t.

He crossed the doors to meet the team, as they went silent and stopped trying to eavesdrop. The third-years’ questioning glances, the determination of his classmates. The expectation of the first-years.

And he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t do it. I don’t know why you think I could but… I can’t.”

And only silence followed.

And then: “Why not?”

The small voice of a first year. Then echoed by Tanaka. By Noya.

By everyone else.

And Tadashi just stared, overwhelmed by the reasons he absolutely couldn’t, rendered speechless by anxiety, as he had been so many other times.

But as the voices kept questioning, Ennoshita spoke with the voice of a captain, the kind of voice Tadashi would never have, saying “It’s not up to us,” and then leaving, throwing Tadashi a last look as all of the team left.

All but the ones from the previous night, just looking at each other, not sure who’d speak up first.

It was Hitoka, of all people.

“You think it’s unfair to us, don’t you? That we care so much and you’ll ruin it somehow.” She was right, of course. She knew that sort of situation, too.

Tadashi struggled to answer her. “Yes.” His voice wavered. “Yes, I do. Volleyball is so important to you guys. For me it was about being... less scared.”

Kageyama frowned a little and then replied as warmly as he could. “It worked, though. You aren’t as scared. You aren’t alone and you aren’t as scared.”

And Tadashi shook his head. “I’m not prepared.”

“Well! I wasn’t either, for many things!” Hinata interjected. “But we both worked hard to learn, right?” he added, shooting him a blinding smile.

And he was _right._ “Yes… but-”

“It’s only a club for you?”

Tadashi stared at Tsukki, hands shaking. “I won’t continue after school.”

“So?” As always, Tsukki seemed slightly annoyed by the conversation, but he didn’t retreat. “This isn’t about ‘what happens then.’ It’s about _now.”_

Tadashi blinked, confused. Stammering, he shook his head: “Do you guys think people would be okay with it? Today- You just went… back to training.”

Hitoka laughed fondly at that, which took Tadashi aback.

“... Tadashi,” she said. “That’s because no one disagreed with it.”

He considered that for a moment. They… _trusted_ him. “So you’d want me to…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tsukki said, words brusque but not ill-intended. “Doesn’t matter what _we_ want. Do you want to?”

Did he want to? To be a _part_ of the team, to have their trust? Tadashi couldn’t hesitate, even though his voice was shaky. “Yes.”

“Then what more do you need?”

And he broke down in tears.

So when the next year came, Tadashi carried the number one on his back. Announcing loud and clear that he mattered too. And when he put his hand forward, for others to join, and called out, “Karasuno, fight!”, it was a reminder, to himself and others: although they may seem weak from afar, stars have their own light. Even the sun is just a star.


End file.
